The Undertaker's Widow

by Phillip Margolin

  Quinn grabbed a towel and locked the Rover. A moment later, he found a narrow pebble-strewn path that wound downward along the cliff side. A stiff breeze messed with his hair. He was wearing a pair of baggy, khaki Bermuda shorts over a blue boxer swimsuit and a T-shirt with a colorful map of the world on the back. His sandals had smooth soles and twice he slipped sideways on small rocks.

  When he was halfway down the trail, Quinn spotted Andrea lying on a large blanket. Beside her was a towel, some clothes, a large wicker picnic basket and snorkeling equipment. During the plane trip, Andrea had looked tired and bedraggled and her clothes had concealed her figure. Today she was wearing dark glasses and a bikini that was no more than three minute patches of yellow fabric. Her trim figure impressed Quinn. Andrea's legs were smooth and faintly muscled and her waist was narrow. He could see her ribs just below the bra of the bikini, then a flat stomach. Andrea's only imperfection was a pale, half-moon-shaped scar that stood out on her hip just below the string that secured the right side of her bikini bottom. The sight of Andrea's near-naked body aroused Quinn. Before he had time to think about his feelings, Andrea saj/tip and waved. Quinn waved back, then walked down the trail slowly to give his erection time to subside.

  "You found me," Andrea said with a smile.

  "Your directions were excellent and you're right about this place. It's beautiful."

  "Wait until you see the reef."

  Quinn lowered himself onto the blanket and eyed the snorkeling equipment nervously.

  "I'm not a very good swimmer. Are you certain I can do this?"

  "If you can swim at all, you can snorkel. All you really do is paddle around with your face in the water. It s a piece of cake. You'll see. I won't let you drown."

  Andrea stood up. Quinn could not help noticing the way her breasts moved under the thin fabric of her bikini top. For a second, he fantasized Andrea naked, lying next to him on the blanket in the hot sun.

  "I'm going to cool off. Come on."

  Andrea reached out for Quinn and he took her hand. Her palm felt warm and smooth and she held on for a second before pulling him toward her. Quinn lurched to his feet and stumbled forward. Their bodies touched. Andrea laughed. Quinn was aroused again. The sensation was exciting but disturbing. He was certain that nothing would happen between them, but a part of him wished it would.

  Quinn tossed his T-shirt and shorts on the blanket. Andrea jogged toward the water. Quinn followed, entranced by Andrea's muscular thighs and the way the movement of her buttocks made the fabric of her bikini bottom undulate. Quinn wondered what Andrea would be like in bed. She seemed so carefree and he imagined that her lovemaking would be loose and spontaneous. He remembered how quick and unsatisfying sex with Laura had become. Instantly, a wave of guilt washed over him.

  Andrea ran into the surf, slowing as the water got higher and diving in when the ocean was at her waist. When she surfaced, her long black hair was wet and it gleamed in the strong sunlight.

  "Come on in."

  Quinn walked into the water. From his experiences in Oregon, he expected the ocean to be freezing, but when the water touched his skin, it felt like a cool shower on a warm summer day. At first, the water was shallow and the sand was smooth. Then fields of dark green seaweed grabbed at his ankles, snarled between his toes and obscured the bottom. Without warning, the seafloor dropped abruptly and Quinn stumbled into water that reached his waist. He bucked a small wave and nearly lost his balance. When he recovered his footing, he squatted and let the waves wash over him. Quinn was still not used to the torrid heat, and the cool water felt great. He closed his eyes, stretched out flat in the water and windmilled his arms, swimming gracelessly for a short distance. When he was winded, Quinn rolled onto his back. Unlike pool water, the salt water supported Quinn and he relaxed a little.

  Andrea was a polished swimmer and she swam over to him with a natural stroke.

  "Feels good, doesn't it?"

  "It feels great. The sun is really hot."

  Andrea rolled onto her back and closed her eyes.

  "This is the most wonderful place in the world, don't you think?"

  The water slipped under Andrea's bikini top and the fabric rose and fell with the motion of the sea. Andrea drifted next to Quinn and he watched as the water washed across her breasts when the fabric shifted. Andrea opened her eyes and caught Quinn staring. He blushed and she smiled. Their eyes met and Andrea rolled against Quinn. Her arms snaked around his neck. Quinn froze. He knew what was happening and he knew he should stop it, but he couldn't. He did not want to.

  Andrea's lips were cold and tasted salty. Her kiss was gentle. She teased him with her lips and he responded. The kiss was long and deep. Quinn closed his eyes and savored it. When her breast brushed his chest, Quinn cupped it. Andrea let Quinn caress her breast for a moment, then broke away, laughing. Quinn was confused. Andrea's fingers brushed his cheek, a feather touch. Quinn felt desire and guilt simultaneously.

  "The sun will start to go down soon," Andrea said. "If you want to snorkel, we better do it now."

  Quinn's mouth was dry from sexual excitement. He nodded instead of speaking, grateful for the chance to sort out what had just happened and to think about what he wanted to happen later when the sun was down and they left the water for the blanket Andrea had so carefully spread out on the sand.

  Andrea swam in easily. Quinn followed her using an ungainly crawl. He was a slow swimmer and he used his time in the water to calm himself. Andrea's kiss had shaken Quinn and made him want more. He and Andrea lived on opposite coasts. They would probably never see each other again after St. Jerome. If he slept with Andrea, Laura might never know. But Quinn would know and he had no idea how that would affect his marriage.

  Andrea was gathering up a set of fins, a mask and a snorkel when Quinn swam ashore. She held up the mask. "This is the key to snorkeling," she instructed. Quinn was still in a state of sexual confusion, but Andrea's tone gave no hint that anything had happened between them. "Without this, you'd be blind underwater. With it, you can see clearly."

  Quinn concentrated on what Andrea was saying to distract himself.

  She held up the snorkel. "This is basically a tube with a U-bend at one end that's fitted with a mouthpiece. With the snorkel, you can breathe while you're swimming facedown on the surface of the water without raising your head."

  Andrea sat on the sand and slipped on her fins. Quinn copied her. He tried to stand up but he had trouble. When he was on his feet he took a few tentative steps and almost fell.

  "God," he laughed self-consciously, "I feel like I'm a clown in the circus."

  "You're doing fine." Andrea handed Quinn his mask and snorkel. "Let's wade out a ways."

  Quinn struggled through the surf. He noticed that Andrea was holding her mask and snorkel out of the water and he did the same. When they were in waist-deep, Andrea said, "Spit on the glass on the inside of your mask like this and rub the spittle all over it, then rinse it off. This will stop the glass from misting when you're underwater."

  Quinn did as he was told. Andrea put on the mask and slid the snorkel under the thick black rubber strap that secured the mask to her head.

  "Breathe through the mouthpiece," Andrea said, "then bend forward and stick your face in the water. Just stand there. I want you to get used to breathing through the snorkel. I'll hold onto you so you can concentrate on what you're doing."

  Quinn bent forward hesitantly until the mask was submerged. Andrea's hands were firm and her touch aroused him again, so he tried to concentrate on her instructions. He put his face in the water and tried to breathe through the mouthpiece, immediately sucking in a mouth full of seawater. The salty taste panicked him and he stood up, spitting. Andrea showed him the correct way to breathe so he would not get water in his mouth. Quinn got it right after a few tries.

  The first thing that amazed Quinn was the clarity with which he could see the underwater world beneath him. A small crab scuttled across a rock on the sand
y sea bottom. Then a bright blue and indigo fish that shot into and out of his vision startled Quinn. He jerked up and spit out his mouthpiece.

  "Did you see that?" he asked excitedly. "This fish . . . it was incredible . . ."

  Andrea laughed. "You ain't seen nothing yet. Wait till we get to the reef."

  Andrea spent a little longer in the shallow area close to the beach getting Quinn used to swimming with the snorkel. The memory of the solitary blue and indigo fish spurred Quinn to learn quickly. Finally, Andrea motioned Quinn to head for the reef.

  "You think I'm ready?" he asked anxiously.

  "No question. Let's do it."

  Quinn was nervous about leaving the area near the beach, but he was soon swimming slowly but steadily into deep water. The most frightening thing was how far away the bottom seemed and the fact that it kept receding, but the sheer beauty of the world below kept him from turning back. He was soon looking down on chasms of coral divided by rivers of white sand on which the wave action had inscribed ripple patterns. The coral was shaped like knobs, spines, fingers and fans. Andrea pointed out several round gray boulders covered by a maze of ridges and grooves that looked remarkably like a human brain. Quinn crossed over a coral cliff from which strands of seaweed waved. Attached to the cliff were clusters of brown coral shaped like the antlers of a great stag and reddish brown spines that jutted high up in the water like the fingers of a drowning man.

  Quinn noticed two small plastic bags filled with bread crumbs tied to Andrea's bikini bottom. He watched as she opened the tie that secured one of the bags and took out some bread. Andrea motioned to Quinn to look down. He could see a large section of whitish brown coral directly below him, but no sign of life. Andrea let the bread fall. The crumbs floated downward undisturbed until they were almost touching the coral. Suddenly, the sea was filled with multicolored fish. Flashes of bright yellow, garish red, electric blue and neon green swooped below him. Andrea handed Quinn the other bag. He opened it quickly, anxious to keep the sea filled with tropical fish.

  Quinn shredded a piece of bread and dropped some of it into the water. A bright yellow goatfish darted out of a hole in the coral and nipped at a bread crumb, while a butterfly fish with a fat white body and broad black stripes attacked another piece.

  Quinn was so absorbed by the swirl of colors that he forgot about Andrea. When he remembered, he looked along the surface for her. She wasn't there. Quinn treaded water to keep himself upright and spun in a circle. The endless ocean and limitless sky gave way to the shoreline, the beach and the high cliff walls, then the ocean and sky returned. Quinn grew anxious. Andrea had been beside him a moment ago. He started to spin again when Andrea erupted from the ocean a few feet from his face. Quinn started to laugh, then Andrea screamed. Quinn froze. Something jerked Andrea underwater and Quinn dove after her without thinking. Through the glass plate in his facemask he saw Andrea clawing at the arms of a diver in scuba gear, her legs and arms flailing helplessly.

  Quinn grabbed the arm that was wrapped around Andrea's throat and tried to pry it from her neck. Andrea's eyes were wide with fear behind her mask. Quinn used all his strength and the diver's arm loosened. Then Quinn's snorkel filled with salt water. Quinn gagged, panicked and bolted straight up. When he cleared the surface, Quinn spit out his mouthpiece, gulped in air and dove again. Andrea and the diver were fading away. She was no longer struggling and she looked like a rag doll in the diver's grip. Quinn took a few desperate strokes in Andrea's direction even though he knew that he could not save her. He came up for air and dropped under the water once more, but Andrea and the diver had disappeared.

  Quinn surfaced and scanned the horizon. The sun was setting, the air was suddenly cold and uninviting and the stunningly beautiful ocean floor had been transformed into a frightening abyss. Andrea had been snatched away and he could be next. Terror propelled Quinn toward the beach. Each time he kicked, he expected to feel a hand clamp onto his ankle. He wanted to look down so he could see if he was in danger, but he was afraid to stop.

  The shore seemed miles away and Quinn's lungs burned. Though he swam with all his might, the beach never seemed closer. He struggled forward, but his arms felt heavy and he could barely kick his legs. He wanted to rest, but terror drove him on. Just when he thought his arms and lungs would give out, a wave carried liim into shallow water and he waded ashore.

  The panic-driven swim had exhausted Quinn. He threw himself onto the beach and gasped for air. When he had recovered a little of his strength, Quinn struggled to his knees and threw up. Then he collapsed on the sand and experienced a momentary rush of joy because he was alive. That feeling was rapidly replaced by fear for his own safety and guilt over his failure to save Andrea.

  Quinn scanned the beach and the ocean for any sign of Andrea or the diver, but he was completely alone. He threw on his clothes and collected everything else that he had brought to the cove. The sun was starting to set. Quinn hurried up the trail. The Land Rover was the only vehicle in sight. If Andrea had not driven to the cove, Freddy's villa had to be nearby. There would be a phone he could use to call the police.

  Andrea had told Quinn that the villa overlooked the ocean. He had not noticed any turnoffs between the village and the cove, so he headed away from the village. He assumed that Andrea had not walked far in the heat. After driving two miles without spotting a side road, Quinn began to wonder if Andrea had been dropped off at the cove and was counting on him to drive her back to the villa.

  Another roadside collection of shacks appeared a short distance ahead. Quinn slowed, looking for someone he could ask for directions to the villa. Halfway through the makeshift town, Quinn saw a concrete-block building slightly larger than the rest. A sign dangled from a roof that overhung a small porch. Quinn guessed that the building housed a shop. He started to slow down when he spotted a metal cooler advertising Coca-Cola at the far end of the porch. The soldiers in the jeep were sitting next to it, drinking sodas. As the Rover neared the shop, they stopped sipping their drinks and watched it.

  It occurred to Quinn that he knew very little about Andrea and that the subject of drugs had come up several times since they had met. There was the drug dealer who owned the villa where she was staying and the cocaine she had found there. Andrea was also knowledgeable about Governor Alvarez's drug connections. If Andrea's murder was drug related, the authorities could be involved.

  Even if Andrea's death had no connection to drugs, it might not be smart to tell the soldiers about the murder. Would they believe Quinn if he said that a diver appeared out of nowhere and spirited Andrea away? The story sounded fantastic even to Quinn, and he had witnessed the murder. It was possible that the soldiers would conclude that Quinn and Andrea were lovers who fought and that Quinn, afraid that Andrea would ruin his marriage and career, had drowned her.

  Quinn made a quick decision. He would drive back to the Bay Reef Resort and explain what happened to the manager or one of the organizers of the convention. There might even be an attorney from St. Jerome at the conference with whom he could consult. Quinn made a U-turn and hoped that the soldiers did not follow him.

  * # *

  When Quinn arrived at the Bay Reef the sun had almost set and he was in the grip of a mind-numbing depression. Quinn dropped off the rental car with the valet and entered the lobby. Heat and fear had caused him to sweat through his T-shirt. As he walked across the terrazzo floor, he imagined that everyone was staling at him. Quinn jumped when someone touched his elbow.

  "Judge Quinn?" asked a heavyset man wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a Hawaiian shirt. Quinn's vision blurred from fatigue. He could not place the man, but he faked a smile.

  "Cliff Engel. We met at the ABA convention in Chicago."

  "Oh, right," Quinn answered, vaguely remembering Engel as someone he'd had lunch with after a committee meeting.

  "Been down by the beach?" Engel asked after spotting the top of Quinn's swimming trunks poking out above the waist of his shorts.

&
nbsp; "Yes. I'm pretty wiped out," Quinn added hastily. "This sun takes it out of you. I thought I'd take a nap."

  "Oh, too bad. I was hoping you'd join Nancy and me for a drink and dinner. We're with the Lyles. You met Gary at the ABA. He's one of my partners."

  "Sorry," Quinn said, forcing his smile to widen, "but I'm all in. I'll see you tomorrow, though."

  "Sure thing. I can't wait to hear your talk. Maybe we can have that drink after you speak."

  "Sounds good."

  Engel pumped Quinn's hand and strode off toward the bar. Quinn sagged. When Engel had touched him, Quinn was certain it was a policeman making an arrest. His heart was still beating hard.

  Quinn crowded into an elevator with two couples who were speaking French, and stood at the back of the car. He could not wait to get to his room. He planned to take a cold shower and clear his head, then figure out his next step.

  Quinn opened the door to his room and froze. Laura was sitting in a chair, looking cool and beautiful in a T-shirt and shorts.

  "What . . . what are you doing here?"

  Laura laughed. "You should see your face."

  "I ... I thought you were in Miami all week."

  "Aren't you glad to see me?" she asked with a grin.

  "Of course," Quinn lied.

  Laura stood up and started across the room toward him. Under any other circumstances, Quinn would have been overjoyed to see Laura. Two days ago he had been crushed when she refused to fly with him to this island paradise. Now, the last thing he wanted was to find Laura in his hotel room, and the thought that she might want to make love terrified him.

  Laura started to put her arms around Quinn, but he stopped her.

  "You're all clean and I'm sweating like a pig," he said. "Give me a rain check on that kiss until I've showered."

  Laura sniffed. "You are a little ripe."

  Quinn faked a laugh and forced a smile. "So what happened in Miami?"

  Laura followed Quinn into the bathroom and told him about her experience while he got ready to shower. He only half listened as Laura told him about Miami. What, he wondered, was he going to tell his wife about his day at the beach, if she asked?